


To Follow Your Lead

by Jadelyn



Series: Puppy [6]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Collars, Dom Jaskier | Dandelion, Dom/sub, Kink Discovery, M/M, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sub Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27062482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadelyn/pseuds/Jadelyn
Summary: Geralt has an unexpected reaction to seeing a submissive being led around on a leash. Jaskier can't help but notice that it doesn't seem to be abadreaction...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Puppy [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950391
Comments: 22
Kudos: 284





	To Follow Your Lead

**Author's Note:**

> Oxenfurt is basically San Francisco and hosts the in-universe equivalent to the Folsom Street Fair and you cannot change my mind.
> 
> Based on a prompt from reader Aceaceace in comments on Maybe Someday: "Idea- Geralt really wants a leash and collar" Hope I did it justice!

"It's a _what?"_

"A festival of sorts. Outdoors, in a particular district in Oxenfurt."

"Yeah, I got that part, thanks. 'Festival' wasn't the unusual part of your description and you know it."

"Well, what are you having trouble with, then?"

"I'm not… _having trouble."_ Geralt pressed the tips of his fingers against his temples. "It’s just...you can't be serious."

"Can and am, my darling witcher." Jaskier was far too merry, clearly enjoying Geralt's reaction.

"They really do… _those_ kinds of things. Out in the open. In public?" Geralt couldn't decide whether to be intrigued or horrified.

"Oh, yes."

"And you want to go to this."

"More specifically," Jaskier said, "I want to go to it with you. Or bring you along with me. Whatever - however you'd like to phrase it."

A traitorous kernel of interest was promptly buried under a sick feeling of dread. "Wait, Jas, you don't - I _can't_ -"

Jaskier, thank the gods, instantly understood his distress. "Oh, no no no! No, darling, that's not - I'm not asking you to…attend in that capacity, shall we say?" He laid a gentle hand over Geralt's on the table between them. "I know you can't, and wouldn't want to play like that in front of other people. The trust you place in me by allowing me to see you that way is something I treasure beyond words, and I'm not proposing to lay it bare before all and sundry."

"Then why do you want me to go with you?" The reassurance helped, but Geralt couldn't figure out what Jaskier wanted from this invite if not that.

"It's just fun," Jaskier said with a shrug. "You get to see all manner of outlandish behaviors - not to mention outfits - and the energy is just very…free. Wild. People set aside judgments for an afternoon and revel in the things they normally keep locked away." An indulgent smile curled his lips. "It's very…quintessentially Oxenfurt."

Put that way, it did sound…interesting, Geralt supposed. "And you swear you're not trying to get me to…join in?"

"Yes," Jaskier said without hesitation. His smile turned wry. "I'd swear on my honor, but…"

Geralt snorted, feeling steadied by the joke. "All right, then. If you want to go, we'll go."

* * *

Jaskier hadn't been joking about the outfits. There was more skin on display, right out in the open, than in a brothel's front room. At least there the whores kept _some_ clothes on until you got behind closed doors.

But here…Geralt could see, at a quick scan, at least a dozen people completely in the nude, and a dozen more wearing harnesses of leather or chain that adorned their bared bodies rather than covering them. It was…surprisingly beautiful, actually. If still extremely strange to see in public like that.

And then there were the behaviors Jaskier had mentioned. People crawling alongside their partners instead of walking together. People bent and contorted and bound to a variety of roughly-built pieces of wooden equipment, being displayed and touched and in many cases flogged or otherwise struck. People who…

Oh.

_Fuck._

Geralt swallowed hard against the heat that rushed through him at the sight of one particular couple walking nearby. They were both dressed - sort of; the woman's dress was tight and quite short, leaving her arms and half her chest and most of her legs bare - but Geralt couldn't have cared less about that. His eye was helplessly caught on the delicate chain that ran between the two. One end was wrapped around the man's hand, and from there the gleaming links swooped up through the air to end at the hollow of the woman's throat, attached to a slim band of leather that encircled her throat.

He stared at them, forcing himself to stillness lest anyone notice his odd reaction, until they rounded a corner and vanished from view. But now that he'd noticed it, he didn't seem to be able to stop noticing it - the crowd was full of people adorned so. The styles differed, some leads made of leather or rope rather than chain, the collars to which they were attached ranging from fragile loops of chain more like a necklace than a collar, to leather of all thicknesses and colors, to even solid bands of iron or steel that wouldn't have looked out of place in a literal dungeon for the imprisonment of criminals.

The wearers of these all followed obediently in the wake of their companions, tethered by the leashes. Most were smiling or looking halfway to hazed-out bliss already. His stomach knotted with envy and his own throat suddenly felt achingly bare in comparison. He had to stop his hand, already rising to touch the bare skin of his neck in longing, and force it back down by his side. But the image in his mind, a simple band of leather with a matching strap and the other end of it secure in Jaskier's grip, refused to fade.

"Geralt?"

Jaskier's voice broke into his reverie, and Geralt forced himself to meet the bard's eyes. He had a sinking feeling that wasn't the first time Jaskier had tried to get his attention. "Yeah?" he answered. His voice was rougher than it should have been, hoarse with unexpected desire.

Jaskier was watching him carefully. "Are you all right?"

_No_. "I'm fine." This wasn't a conversation Geralt had any intention of having out in public. Maybe not at all; something in him quailed at the idea of trying to explain this all to Jaskier.

Thankfully Jaskier didn't push it. He looked askance at Geralt and there was a very clear 'if you say so' written across his face, but for once in his life he let it go. With a shrug he continued on, Geralt trailing in his wake.

( _Exactly as you would, if he had you on a lead…_ , Geralt's mind helpfully pointed out.)

( _Shut the fuck up,_ he told his errant thoughts, and kept walking.)

* * *

The image haunted him for weeks, dogging his thoughts both waking and sleeping. He'd grudgingly admitted to Jaskier the day after the fair that he'd had a better time than he'd expected, though he hadn't elaborated. When Jaskier had accepted his silence on the specifics equally grudgingly, Geralt had let himself confess to being intrigued by some of the forms of what Jaskier had referred to in general as 'impact play'. It had been enough to win a smile from the bard and an offer to explore further if Geralt ever wanted to.

But he still kept the matter of collars and leashes to himself.

* * *

The memories of seeing people like that refused to fade, as did the cravings those thoughts always produced. Geralt began to consider talking to Jaskier about it, asking if they could try that. Jaskier, Geralt reasoned with himself, had reacted positively to his mentions of interest in 'impact play', after all. In fact throughout all of this, as they explored this new dimension to things between them, Jaskier had always been nothing but supportive. He even seemed to actively enjoy it when Geralt dared to ask for things or offer suggestions. Perhaps that would hold true for this as well?

But it felt...different, somehow, than the other things they’d done so far. There was a weight to it that he couldn’t quite pin down in his thoughts, and he wasn’t going to talk to Jaskier about it until he had that sorted out.

And then it occurred to him one night, with Jaskier already peacefully asleep beside him. The extra dimension the idea carried, the meaning he’d been trying to extract from it.

It was possession. Almost…and he flinched away from thinking about it, but once the thought had arrived it stubbornly refused to retreat…ownership.

Because all the other things they’d done up til this point… All right, yes, some of them - most of them - had been a bit degrading, a bit humiliating, and he’d discovered he liked that, though he was determined not to dwell on _that_ at the moment lest he have an even worse time trying to sleep than usual due to a raging erection. But even in all that, there was still the faintest veneer of - dignity didn’t really seem to be the right word, but he couldn’t think of a better one. Even when Jaskier was calling him things like ‘pet’ and - _fuck_ , he thought, holding himself rigidly still so as not to shudder at the thought - ‘puppy’, the effect was an intangible one.

A collar, and even more so a leash, was real in a way no words could ever be. Which was probably why it had lodged in his head and refused to go away; words were as real as any chain or strap, for Jaskier, but it was different for Geralt. He’d grown to enjoy the words - especially once he’d realized he didn’t _actually_ dislike being called ‘puppy’, he just felt like he _should_ because someone like him shouldn’t be into that, and it turned out once he dispensed with that hang-up it was actually incredibly hot - but Jaskier could heap thousands upon thousands of words on him without ever having quite the same type of effect as something physical.

Geralt sighed and rolled over. He’d worked out what the issue was. Unfortunately that didn’t seem to translate to a sudden sense of confidence in broaching the subject to Jaskier. _Tomorrow_ , he promised himself. _I’ll talk to him tomorrow._

* * *

It took three more weeks for him to actually ask.

He hadn't really planned to. It just sort of…came out. It was a quiet moment between them, the kind of evening where they both wanted to enjoy their dynamic without necessarily needing to do anything particularly involved or active. He was content and floaty, kneeling with his head laid on Jaskier's thigh and the bard's dexterous fingers carding through his hair, when the image popped into his head of how the moment could only be made better by the addition of a collar and leash. And before he could stop himself, he was opening his mouth.

"Jas?"

"Hmm?"

"I was thinking…" and here his mind caught up with his runaway voice, clamping his jaw shut on the words.

"Thinking about what, pup?"

Even that word, in Jaskier's honeyed tone, wasn't enough to break down his sudden, almost frightened resistance. "Uh. Hm. Nothing."

But Jaskier's hand tightened in his hair and pulled, forcing him up to meet Jaskier's gaze. "Puppy," he said, a warning lacing his voice.

"It's nothing."

Jaskier knew better than to believe that, and was too stubborn to allow it. "It was important enough to say a moment ago. The world can't have changed so drastically in under ten seconds as to render something insignificant that quickly." He paused, looking down at Geralt. "Tell me."

It wasn't a request.

Geralt took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. It didn't help.

"Remember that weird festival, in Oxenfurt?"

Jaskier nodded.

"There was…there was. Something else I saw there. That…interested me."

"Oh?"

"I saw people - with, um. With. Collars." Geralt dropped his gaze, unable to meet Jaskier's eyes any longer, and spared a moment to hope that the floor might swallow him whole before he had to say any more. "And leashes. Being…led."

"Mhmm."

"And I. I thought maybe. I wondered. If…" Geralt cast his eyes up at Jaskier, willing him to step in and not make him say it.

"Go on, love," Jaskier said, every bit as gentle and comforting as Geralt could have hoped.

"I think I maybe want to try that." The words spill out in a sudden rush. Geralt tensed, waiting for Jaskier to laugh, or roll his eyes or something.

But he only smiled, very gently. "Thank you, Geralt," he said. "I know that was hard for you to ask." He patted Geralt's shoulder and stood up. "Stay," he said, and went across to his bags to rummage for something.

Geralt felt as though his heart nearly stopped when Jaskier turned around. He stared at the black leather band and attached strap in stunned silence as Jaskier came back and sat.

Jaskier smiled a little at whatever look Geralt wore. "I bought it the next day," he explained. "I saw how you looked at other people wearing them. But I decided to wait until you were ready to ask for it. I feared if I brought it up you might run away from the topic."

It was…not an unreasonable fear, Geralt had to admit. "You've just been holding on to it since then? Waiting for me to say something?"

"I have," Jaskier said. "I knew you'd get to it eventually. I wanted to be ready, when you did."

Geralt dragged his eyes away from the collar and looked up to meet Jaskier's gaze. "Please," he managed to whisper hoarsely.

"Gladly, pet. Hold your hair up out of the way, please."

The instant the leather touched his skin, Geralt's eyes fell shut. He sucked in a fast, hitching breath as the buckle drew it snug about his throat, feeling strangely as though he wanted to cry.

"That's it, darling," Jaskier murmured. "You can let your hair back down now. There we are."

There was a gentle tug on the leash. Geralt followed it easily, rising to kneel up between Jaskier's thighs for a kiss. He moaned into Jaskier's lips, unable to stop himself.

"Good boy," Jaskier said. "So good, my puppy, asking for it like that."

There was a low sound as all the air rushed out of Geralt's lungs at once, as though he'd been struck. The moment was overwhelming suddenly, in the best sort of way. The feeling of being held, tethered, was even better than he'd imagined, especially combined with Jaskier's voice calling him _that_ , telling him he'd done well. He was dizzy and half-stupid with it already.

"Thank you," he groaned, nuzzling into Jaskier's neck. He licked along the tendon, pressed a kiss just below Jaskier's ear. "Thank you, sir."

"Oh, you sweet little thing," Jaskier said, warmth and delight in his voice. "You're welcome, pup." His free hand came up and tangled in Geralt's hair, not directing, simply holding him close as he licked and kissed and nipped his way up and down the pale column of Jaskier's throat.

Geralt would have been content with just that, but a gentle tension on the leash guided him down, slowly, until he was nuzzling at Jaskier's groin where the fabric was straining to contain him.

Mouthing along the bulge of Jaskier's cock, Geralt looked up almost reverently. "Please," he nearly begged. "I want to suck your cock, sir." Distantly he marveled at how easily the words had come this time, as though the collar had silenced the guarded part of his mind that ordinarily kept such a close watch on his speech.

Jaskier beamed down at him. "Yes, puppy, you may."

Geralt wasted no time, fingers eagerly scrabbling at fastenings until he could ease Jaskier's prick free of the constricting fabric. He leaned in and flicked the tip of his tongue through Jaskier's slit, lapping up the salty-slickness that was already welling up, then wasted no further time before sucking him down as far as he could.

Praise and filthy endearments dripped from Jaskier's lips as Geralt worked over his cock. Each one only left Geralt's own neglected cock harder and needier than the last.

"My pretty little cockslut," Jaskier purred, "sucking me so well. This is where you belong, isn't it, puppy? A sweet, obedient creature, collared and kept, so eager to be good for me, just wanting to please, isn't that right?"

Geralt moaned, helpless and frantic and needy, and took Jaskier fully into his throat. One hand gripped Jaskier's hip, steadying them both, while his free hand worked into the open front of Jaskier's trousers. Sliding his fingers back a little, Geralt cupped his balls in his palm and with two fingers pressed firmly on a spot just behind them.

"Fuck!" Jaskier gasped. "Oh, yes, good boy, making me feel so _fucking_ good. Just like that, pet, yes. Fuck, don't stop. I'm going to come for you, puppy, and you'll swallow it all for me, won't you?"

Geralt hummed an affirmative, rubbed the pads of his fingers over that spot a little more, and that was it. Jaskier shouted out his pleasure, pulling the leash taut to hold Geralt in place as Jaskier spilled into his throat.

After, Geralt delicately licked Jaskier clean of the last drops and tucked him back into his clothes before sitting back on his heels. He traced the line of the leash hanging between them with his eyes, a warm glow lighting in his chest.

Jaskier followed his gaze and smiled down at him. "It suits you," he said. Then his blue eyes swept down Geralt’s body to where his cock curved up toward his belly, a slick trail of precome sliding down his shaft, and the smile turned wicked and a bit calculating. He stood, sending a shiver down Geralt’s spine as the lead grew taut between them.

Jaskier tugged the leash upward slightly. “Come, pet.”

Without a single conscious thought Geralt stumbled to his feet and followed after him as Jaskier led him toward the bed. By the time they reached it his legs were shaking and he had to lock his knees just to stay upright.

With a grin, Jaskier reclined on the bed, snagging the oil from the bedside table and holding it out. “I’ve decided I want to come again tonight,” he announced, a twitch of the lead guiding Geralt to join him on the bed, kneeling between his legs. “So you’re going to put that magnificently hard prick to use and fuck me til I do. Understood?”

A shuddering breath rushed out of Geralt as he took the oil, uncorked it, and coated his fingers. “Yes, sir,” he said. His voice was shaking almost as badly as his legs had been.

Jaskier wriggled beneath him a little, getting ostentatiously comfortable. He _lounged_ , propping one arm behind his head, the other resting on his belly and toying with the end of the leash he still held. His eyes closed and he let out a low, pleased sound as Geralt traced a finger around his rim before slowly pressing into him.

“Mmm,” he sighed. “So good, pup. Just like that, nice and slow.” Jaskier cracked his eyes open just a little and smiled. “Make it good for me, pet. Like you always do.”

The praise burned in combination with everything else - the collar, the leash still held in Jaskier’s hand, the slick heat of Jaskier’s passage around his finger taunting and promising at once with what he had to look forward to. Geralt let his eyes fall shut and bit his lip to hold back the whimper that wanted to escape.

An admonishing twitch of the lead caught his attention. He forced his eyes open and looked down at Jaskier uncertainly.

“You know I like hearing you, puppy,” Jaskier said. There was only the faintest edge of scolding in his voice but it was still enough to make Geralt shudder with the combined ache of disappointment in himself and the redoubled need to do better alike.

“Sorry,” he breathed.

“Good boy.” Jaskier drew him down using the leash, bringing him close enough for a kiss. It felt like absolution.

When Jaskier let him go Geralt sat up and worked a second finger into him, dragging the tips of his fingers over Jaskier’s sweet spot and watching him shiver and moan. He added more oil, keeping the slide slick and easy, and alternated gentle scissoring with less-gentle pressure against Jaskier’s prostate until he was gasping and rocking against Geralt’s hand, cock fully hard again and leaking against his belly.

“Enough,” Jaskier panted. “I’m ready. Fuck me, pet.”

Geralt slicked himself with shaking hands and pressed in, slowly, gritting his teeth against the urge to slam in all at once and spill inside him. He whined thinly between his teeth as he came to rest, sheathed fully inside Jaskier.

“Good,” Jaskier purred, wrapping his legs around Geralt’s hips. “You always feel so good inside me, so perfect and thick, making me feel so full.”

Gods, Geralt thought dizzily, Jaskier’s unstoppable mouth was going to be the death of him one of these times.

He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Move,” Jaskier ordered. Geralt obeyed, rolling his hips in slow, languid thrusts to start with. Jaskier closed his eyes and a dreamy little smile played about his lips as he relaxed into it.

Watching Jaskier luxuriating in the sensation, utterly at ease, doing nothing more than accepting the pleasure that was his due stoked the fire in Geralt's belly even higher. He struggled to keep his movements slow and even until Jaskier asked for more, despite the urge to fuck into him and chase his own pleasure hard and fast. He clung to his control and reminded himself that he wasn't here to take his own pleasure but to serve Jaskier's. There was no guarantee that he would even get to come tonight, for that matter - Jaskier might not choose to allow it.

Jaskier's voice broke into Geralt's thoughts. "Good, puppy," he said. "So very good for me, aren't you, my pretty pet?"

The sweet words hit like a punch to the gut and all Geralt could do was gasp and nod, hips jerking forward in a single hard thrust before he got himself back under control.

Jaskier laughed a little, but said, "Words, darling."

"Yes," he groaned, eyes falling shut for a moment. He forced them open again, knowing Jaskier liked to see just how wrecked he was by whatever Jaskier was doing to him. "Yes, sir."

"That's right," Jaskier praised him, "you are. So good. Faster, pup."

Geralt sped his movements up a little, then a little more, watching Jaskier's reaction until -

"Yes, just - just like that," Jaskier said. He was breathing a little harder, eyes half-closed and hips rocking up to meet each thrust. But he wasn't quite…

Minutely Geralt shifted the angle of hips, then a little more.

He knew he'd hit the right spot when Jaskier's eyes flew open and he cried out, back arching and fist clenching on the leash. "Fuck!" he gasped. "Oh, oh fuck, yes, _good_ boy, right there." Giving up all pretense of relaxation, Jaskier brought his hand down from where he'd propped it behind his head and gripped onto Geralt's shoulder. His nails dug white crescents into the already-pale skin.

Geralt moaned at the slight sting of pain. He was getting dangerously close, relying on sheer willpower to keep himself withheld.

Jaskier eased his grip a little and stroked his palm down over the rigid muscles of Geralt’s arm where he was holding himself up, trembling slightly. “All this strength at my disposal,” he murmured as his eyes followed the path of his hand, almost thoughtfully, though it was undermined somewhat by the way he was still panting slightly with each thrust sliding over his prostate. He groaned at a particularly well-aimed thrust, then met Geralt’s eyes, licked his lips, and smiled. “Fuck me hard, pet,” he demanded. “I want you to make me _feel_ all that lovely strength, you understand?”

“Yes!” The word burst from his lips, ragged, as he snapped his hips forward hard and fast, over and over. The focus required to balance giving Jaskier what he’d asked for with holding back enough not to risk actually hurting him was the only thing keeping him from breaking and spilling in the first handful of thrusts as Jaskier gasped and moaned and clenched around him.

“Perfect,” Jaskier cried, tossing his head back. “Yes, oh, fuck, yes, yes that’s - just like that, just like…” Words dissolved into incoherent sounds of ecstasy. Suddenly he dropped the end of the leash, instead hooking fingers directly through the ring at the front of the collar. He yanked Geralt down into a hard, messy kiss, working his free hand between them to wrap around his cock.

Barely two strokes later Jaskier was coming with a shout, painting them both with his spend. The tight clutch of his hole squeezed Geralt's prick almost painfully and he made a choked, helpless sound against Jaskier's lips.

"Jas, _please_ -"

"Come for me." Jaskier's voice was an almost guttural rasp, still shuddering through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

It was instant, as though Jaskier's words had reached inside him and flipped a switch. Geralt didn't even have time to breathe before it consumed him, fire licking up from the base of his spine as he spilled into Jaskier.

The flames receded slowly, long moments later. Geralt came back to himself, panting as though he'd just sprinted the length of the Continent and back, face buried against Jaskier's neck. His face was wet and his arms shook so badly it was a minor miracle he hadn't completely collapsed on top of Jaskier.

But Jaskier was making no attempt to move him. Arms wrapped around him, hand stroking gently through his sweat-soaked hair, Jaskier seemed perfectly content to lie there still joined for as long as Geralt needed.

Geralt lost track of how long they stayed like that, though he was eventually vaguely aware of Jaskier tipping them over to lie on their sides facing one another. Mostly he was just aware of the respite from having to hold himself up and the way his arms came around Jaskier in turn without thinking about it, unable to stop himself from clinging.

"That's it, my darling," Jaskier whispered. "You did so well, puppy. So well. You were everything I could've asked for and more, love." He kept going, murmuring softness and praise until Geralt was lost in it, unable to find his way out and perfectly content to stay there forever.

But eventually the world filtered back. Geralt kept his face hidden against Jaskier's throat a while longer, feeling uncertain and a little afraid to meet Jaskier's eyes after the intensity of his reaction to everything.

Still, when Jaskier pressed gentle fingertips beneath his jaw and tipped his head back so their eyes could meet, Geralt couldn't bring himself to resist it. He felt vulnerable to the point of rawness, like his entire being had been flayed open beneath Jaskier's gaze, but he looked steadily back without trying to duck away. He couldn't deny Jaskier anything. Wouldn't try to.

And Jaskier, gods bless him, gave him no judgment, no derision. He wiped the tracks of tears from Geralt's face with a delicate touch and smiled. "There you are, my sweet. There you are."

Geralt found himself giving a faint, crooked smile in return. "Yeah," he said. "Here I am."

They both winced when they eased apart, oversensitive and with the adrenaline faded enough that they actually felt the soreness and aches. Before Geralt could say anything, almost before he could even think the apology, Jaskier's fingers were pressed over his lips.

"Don't you dare," he said, but he was smiling to take the sting out of it. "I needed that, to just lie there and be held for a little while, almost as much as you did, love."

Geralt hummed, feeling the floaty haze giving way to exhaustion. The world came into sharp focus for a moment, though, when Jaskier shifted back and made to get up out of bed.

A hand cupped his cheek in warm reassurance. "I'm not going far, darling. Just going to get us cleaned up a little before we go to sleep. I'll be right back, I promise."

It was enough to soothe the uncertainty nipping at the edges of his mind. Geralt nodded silently, watching as Jaskier went about fetching damp cloths and suiting actions to words, as well as making sure they both had some water and the last of the bread left over from their supper.

At last, clean and comfortable, they settled back into bed together. But before Geralt could curl against Jaskier, the bard paused and rested the tips of his fingers against the collar still wrapped snugly about Geralt's throat.

"Are you ready to take it off?" His tone was neutral, his expression open and patient, making sure Geralt knew it was a real choice and Jaskier would accept either answer.

Geralt thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, please," he said, voice barely more than a subvocal rumble.

Jaskier heard him, though, and unfastened the collar with deft fingers, setting it on the bedside table. He turned back and caressed the newly bared skin, tracing the edges of faint marks left by the edges of the stiff leather.

"It left a few marks," Jaskier explained. "Feel all right, though?"

Geralt nodded. It didn't hurt, and he rather liked the idea of having marks even after the collar was off, though he knew they'd be gone by morning. Then, before Jaskier could reproach him for his silence, he said, "Yes." His lips quirked in a faint smile. "Felt…really good," he added. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, love." Jaskier settled onto his back and tucked Geralt against his side.

Pillowing his head on Jaskier's shoulder, Geralt ran his fingers idly through the bard's chest hair. "And thank you for…for waiting. Until I was ready."

Jaskier turned his head and kissed Geralt's forehead. He could feel the smile that curved Jaskier's mouth at that. "I'm very proud of you, you know," he said. "For asking."

Geralt hummed quietly, then stretched up to plant a kiss beneath Jaskier's jaw. Silence descended for a long moment, then he found himself asking, "Could we…could we play with it again?"

A soft, fond laugh was pressed into his hair. "Of course, my sweet. As often as you like. Now go to sleep."

Geralt obeyed, drifting off to thoughts and fantasies of the next time. He was, he thought, going to spend quite a bit of time wearing it.

Somehow he didn't think Jaskier would mind.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I'm open to ideas and/or requests for scenes you'd like to see in this series!


End file.
